


In which God Herself says "Gay Rights" (or something to that effect)

by Khoshekh42



Series: Gay Rights 'verse [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale is less angelic than he'd like you to think, Aziraphale says the Fuck word, Crowley cries, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Vomiting tw, ultimately a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khoshekh42/pseuds/Khoshekh42
Summary: It's after the apocowasn't and Gabriel is pissed that that bastard Aziraphale is still down there doing whatever in Heaven's name he wants, and they can't very well have THAT can they?So he devises a plan (read: Michael devises a plan) to get him out of their hair forever.He'd get Aziraphale to fall, which is really much more of a process nowadays.In which Crowley cries, Aziraphale says the Fuck word (and isn't very angelic, all in all), and God herself says "Gay Rights"(Or something to that effect)





	In which God Herself says "Gay Rights" (or something to that effect)

Gabriel was _damned_ if he didn’t get that bastard Aziraphale somehow. The principality was obnoxious, rude, and- frankly- deserved to fall. Especially after the stunt he’d pulled with the Hell fire.

 

Michael was the one that came up with the plan.

 

“If he and the demon are still… fraternizing, then we might be able to catch them with a damnable offence. Then Hell would be the one that would have to deal with him, and we would be free of him forever.”

 

“Yes… That might work. Sandalphon, go get Vehuel. He’s spent some time on Earth. We have a job for him.” Gabriel was thrilled to actually have a chance to be rid of Aziraphale, who had never been one of Gabriel’s favorites. He didn’t take care of himself, and he’d seemed sketchy since he’d opened that bookshop of his.

 

Vehuel arrived, and Gabriel gave him his instructions. He was to discreetly follow Aziraphale, and once he committed a sin punishable by being made to fall, Vehuel was to record the incident, and come back to Gabriel immediately.

 

“Do you think you can handle that?” And okay, maybe it was a little condescending, but _honestly_. Any angel that spent more time than needed on Earth wasn’t quite as holy as other, more self-respecting angels.

 

But if Vehuel noticed the condescension, he made no mention of it in favor of nodding once and leaving to go to Earth.

 

_________

 

“I _wish_ I had something to do with Apple. Honestly, they’re slowing down the operating systems to get people to buy the new phone, which is only infinitesimally different than the last one. It’s brilliant, Angel.”

 

“It’s _mean_ is what it is.”

 

“Of course it is. They’re a multi-billion dollar corporation, they’re bound to have a few bad, well, apples. More than a few. Hell loves CEOs, anyone with power, really.”

 

The pair had been sitting in their usual table at the Ritz for the past four hours, and it was only by miracle that no one was upset at them for staying for so long.

 

“Still. They shouldn’t do it.” Aziraphale might have been a little tipsy at this point, and it was beginning to show.

 

“That’s… kind of the point.”

 

“Dolphins.” Aziraphale muttered under his breath, causing Crowley to erupt in raucous laughter. At this, Aziraphale gave Crowley a small smile, one that he saved only for the demon.

 

Miracles could only go so far, though, and as they were approaching their sixth hour and a level of drunkenness that they rarely surpassed, they decided to go before they got kicked out. Neither wanted that, and they both would rather like to be allowed to continue going to the Ritz thank-you-very-much.

 

They left arm in arm, Crowley humming the melody to some song of which Aziraphale was sure he would disapprove.

 

“You really should sober up before driving, dear.” Aziraphale said disapprovingly as Crowley started the car.

 

“Oh, you take all the fun out of everything.” Crowley mumbled, but did as he was asked.

 

“No, I just want it to be safe- saf _er_ \- for the humans.”

 

“Fine, fine. Whatever.” Crowley mock-complained, although he would never tell Aziraphale that he had planned on sobering up before anything had been said about it.

 

As the car started, Queen poured out of the speakers so loudly that it drowned out the sound of the engine.

 

“Really dear, must you blast your music like that?” Aziraphale asked, trying to shout over the lyrics, and failing miserably.

 

“ _-ing at the Ritz, we’ll meet at 9, precisely_

_I will pay the bill, you taste the wine._

_Driving back in style in my saloon will do quite nicely,_

_Take me back to yours that will be fine.”_

Crowley sang along, and to Aziraphale it might have been a flip of a coin as to whether he’d heard his complaint.

 

“Is this song about _sex,_ Crowley?”

 

This, Crowley did hear, because he spluttered out laughter, and turned the volume way down.

 

“Of _course_ it is! It’s called ‘Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy’, come on Angel, get with the program.”

 

Aziraphale ‘harrumphed’ and started flicking through the other CDs that Crowley had, until he came to one marked simply ‘Aziraphale’. With a contented noise, he ejected the Wagner CD that was currently playing, much to Crowley’s chagrin, and popped in the new one.

 

As soon as the first bar of music came out, Crowley’s eyes widened, and he looked positively panicked.

 

“No, not this one.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I just-”

 

Aziraphale shushed him as the lyrics started.

 

“ _I don’t believe in an interventionist God_

_But I know, darling, that you do_

_But if I did, I would kneel down and ask him_

_Not to intervene when it came to you_

_Oh, not to touch a hair on your head_

_Leave you as you are_

_If he felt he had to direct you_

_Then direct you into my arms_

_Into my arms, Oh Lord”_

Aziraphale was speechless, to a point where Crowley had been resting his head on the steering wheel and miracle-ing his way through traffic, and Aziraphale hadn’t said a word about it.

 

Finally coming to his senses, Aziraphale punched a button on the dash- though somewhat uncertain as to what it did.

 

A different song came on.

 

“ _Babe_

_There’s something tragic about you_

_Something so magic about you_

_Don’t you agree?_

_Babe_

_There’s something lonesome about you_

_Something so wholesome about you_

_Get closer to me_

_No tight side, no rolling eyes, no irony_

_No ‘who cares’, no vacant stares, no time for me_

_Honey you’re familiar like my mirror years ago_

_Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword_

_Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know_

_I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.”_

Aziraphale panicked, punched the button again, starting another song.

 

“ _Heart beats fast_

_Colors and promises_

_How to be brave_

_How can I love when I’m afraid to fall_

_But watching you stand alone_

_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow_

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday, waiting for you_

_Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years_

_I’ll love you for a thousand more.”_

“I’m sorry!” Aziraphale frantically started punching all sorts of buttons- one made the windshield wipers start up- until he got to one that turned off the music entirely.

 

Crowley lifted his head from the steering wheel as they pulled up in front of Aziraphale’s shop.

 

“Don’t apologize, ‘s not your fault.” Crowley sped off from the corner as soon as Aziraphale had gotten out.

 

A beat of angelic panicking-

 

“ _Fuck_.”

 

Everything was different now. Things that they’d left unsaid for all sorts of reasons were now coming spilling out and it seemed like they were both going to get hurt in the fallout.

 

“There was a _reason_ we’ve never talked about it in the past, Anathema.” Aziraphale explained later that day over tea (though Anathema suspected that there was something much stronger in Aziraphale’s cup).

 

“But you do love him back, don’t you?”

 

“Well, I do love him, yes. But that isn’t the point!”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He’d be tortured for all of eternity! I’d _fall_ if we got caught.”

 

“I know, but surely they’re not paying attention right now. I mean you did kind of terrify them with the whole switcheroo thing. Besides- and I hate to say this- but if they ever found out that that’s what you did, that all would happen anyway. Or they’d just outright kill you both.”

 

“You’re not very good at this ‘comforting’ thing, are you.” Aziraphale gave her a sideways glance over his cup.

 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re going to end up dead or fallen anyway, then why not have some fun with the time you have left.”

 

Perhaps it was the alcohol in Aziraphale’s system, because as Anathema said this, he found himself deep in his head.

 

_He and Crowley picnicking at St. James’s park._

_Crowley kissing him lightly as they dined at the Ritz._

_Kissing Crowley among the shelves of his shop._

_Him, with Crowley bent over the countertop, roughly fu-_

He shook his head, face darkening.

 

“It’s dangerous, Anathema!” His voice was maybe an octave higher than usual.

 

Anathema smirked as if she could read his thoughts.

 

“I’m just saying… It’s not like you haven’t done things that would warrant him being tortured, and you falling.”

 

“Yes…”

 

“And if it means that you two get to be happy, then it’s a win.”

 

“I suppose.” The longer Anathema spoke, the more interested Aziraphale was in what she was saying. The more he was giving in to his emotions.

 

“You should go talk to him.”

 

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Aziraphale said, somewhat distracted by his own thoughts. Clearing his head, “Yes. _Yes._ I’m going to talk to him. We’re going to confront the elephant in the room even if we do get in trouble. Because he’s _worth it_.”

 

Aziraphale stood swiftly and walked outside to hail a cab.

 

 

Crowley was much less confident than Aziraphale at the time being. 

 

“I fucked up. I fucked up bad, guys.” He sniffed, wiping wet eyes with his sleeve, as his hand was busy holding the neck of an expensive wine bottle.

 

“What’m I going to tell him?” He looked up from his spot on the floor, desperately searching for answers in the confused leaves of his usually terrified house plants.

 

“’Heyyy, ‘Zira. Sssorry I went and fell in love with you.’” Crowley downed another gulp straight from the bottle. “’Sorry I’m a _demon.’”_

He ignored a knock at his door.

 

“’Sorry I was fucking wreck of an angel, but somehow I’m a bigger mess of a demon.’”

 

He ignored the knocking even as it got more incessant. A voice accompanied it, but in his drunken state, he wasn’t even registering who it might be.

 

“’I know you don’t love me back,’” He said a little louder, as if somehow Aziraphale would be able to hear him. “’It doesn’t have to change anything; I’ll just _fuck off to hell._ ’”

 

There was a great sound as the door crashed open.

 

“Oh Crowley!” And there he was, looking angelic and beautiful as always, the overhead light haloing around his head.

 

_Aziraphale._

 

Crowley just hiccupped, then sobbed a little as the angel wrapped him in a warm hug, reminding him- yet again- how heartless he was. How coldblooded.

 

“Crowley, sober up, please.” Aziraphale begged, desperate to not see Crowley like this for any longer.

 

“I don’t think I really want to.”

 

Aziraphale took a deep breath, weighing his options.

 

And he kissed him.

 

By the end of it, as they both drew away for air that neither really needed, Crowley was as sober as he’d ever been.

 

“But-” Crowley looked astonished.

 

“Well. Maybe you shouldn’t just _assume_ how other people feel, dear.”

 

“Will do.” Crowley looked quite distracted.

 

Crowley scrambled to stand, eyes for nothing, no one but the angel. _His_ angel.

 

Aziraphale smiled widely, “Kiss me again?”

 

“Gladly.”

 

They’d only begun to kiss when the flash of a camera lit them both.

 

They turned only to catch a beam of light ascending to heaven.

 

And so, for the second time that day-

 

“ _Fuck.”_

 

 

 

Vahuel walked up to Gabriel with a small photograph- one that would come from an instant camera.

 

“I have what you asked for.”

 

“It’s been, what? Two days?”

 

“Do you… not want the photograph?” Vahuel was somewhat confused.

 

“J- Of course I want the photograph!” Gabriel snatched it from the principality’s hand to look at it.

 

“Well, well, well… Aziraphale’s been naughty, hasn’t he?” He turned the photograph on its side. “It’s disgusting, isn’t it? Disgustingly _human_.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“It was a rhetorical- right, whatever, you find Michael, I’m going to go pick up our _defendant_.”

 

 

There was a scrambling panic down on Earth, where an angel and a demon were trying to sort out what they were supposed to do.

 

“Erm, Alpha Centauri?” Aziraphale suggested, raking hands through his frazzled hair.

 

“I’ll just go up to Heaven with you.” Crowley countered.

 

“What good is _that_ supposed to do?” Aziraphale cried. “They’ll _kill_ you.”

 

“Better that than you falling.” Crowley muttered darkly.

 

“No, _not_ better! Not better at all, much worse.”

 

“Wor-? Angel, you’d _hate_ being a demon. It’d kill you, you’d have to do mean things, demonic things. You’d have to do tempting things and not get to thwart any of my ‘wiles’.”

 

“I’d love it, just if it meant that I’d get to be with you.” Aziraphale responded softly, shutting Crowley up quite effectively.

 

A knock at the door broke them both from their reverie.

 

“I’m not going to knock twice, demon.” Gabriel’s voice echoed from the stoop.

 

“ _Hide_.” Crowley hissed.

 

Aziraphale did nothing but shake his head.

 

“ _Please_ , Angel, just hide. Get out of here. I can’t _stand_ to lose you. _Not_ _again_.”

 

Aziraphale looked like he was going to cry, but he held his head high, pulled Crowley into a searing kiss, and marched over to wrench the door open, face stony and- for the first time Crowley had truly seen- _pissed_.

 

“Ah, Aziraphale. Good.”

 

“I’ll come willingly, but _don’t_ expect me to come _quietly_.”

 

“Your little boyfriend here really had an influence on you, didn’t he?” Gabriel remarked scathingly, glancing over at Crowley.

 

At this, Aziraphale stood a little taller, a little prouder-

 

“Yes. Yes, he _has._ ”

 

Crowley had never been so in love in his life, but he wasn’t about to say it to even himself, lest he start getting ideas.

 

But the next moment, Aziraphale was gone in a flash of light up to heaven.

 

“ _Fuck._ ” Crowley muttered under his breath, trying to keep his panic below the surface.

 

“What am I going to do?” He asked himself aloud, his attempts to remain calm were quickly diminishing as he began to shake uncontrollably.

 

Almost as if controlled by some ‘higher power’, Crowley walked out of his apartment, walked down to where the Bentley had been parked, got in, and started to drive.

 

He honked at other road users, long and pissed-off honks of his horn as he whizzed by them at nearly one hundred and ten miles per hour.

 

He finally screeched to a halt in front of a hair stylist, and marched inside.

 

Crowley would never be able to tell anyone what had compelled him to come here, and because of that, he froze as he reached the front desk.

 

“Oh hello! You’re the one that’s always around Mr. Fell, how is he?”

 

His legs buckled, and he grabbed the desk in front of him to keep himself from stumbling to the ground.

 

“ _Fell.”_ He muttered, “He’s going to fall, he’s going to _Fall_.”

 

His face was hot and wet, and he hadn’t been this freaked out since the fire incident.

 

“Goodness!” The woman who’d greeted him exclaimed- Jenny, read her nametag. “Are you alright?”

 

And at that, Crowley turned and retched into the trashcan.

 

Three other women who had been watching the situation with slight interest stood and rushed to help him.

 

“Sit, please!” One of them- Sacha- put him in a chair.

 

“Water!” The second- Layla- jumped to grab a water bottle from the back.

 

“Here you go!” The third- Deirdre- brandished a wet towel, which she pressed against his forehead.

 

“Just relax, sweetheart, we’ve got you.” Jenny reassured him.

 

Crowley allowed the women to fuss over him for a moment, dazed and confused from doing such a human thing as _vomiting._ Finally he spoke, capturing their attention quickly with his quiet words- “It’s all my fault. He’s…” Crowley floundered for an appropriate metaphor, “Getting fired, all because of me. He’s going to be miserable, just because I…” For a moment it looked like he was going to be sick again. Layla even made to go get another water bottle.

 

“Just because I fancy him.” He stared down into the floor, boring holes into the faux-wood.

 

The four women cooed sadly at him.

 

“Oh, honey.” Sacha said, patting his shoulder. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

 

“Yes, it _will_. He- he adores his job. He hates mine, that’s what he’ll be stuck doing if he… gets fired.”

 

“I’ve heard the way he talks about you.” Deirdre spoke up, “He’s obviously madly in-”

 

“You don’t _get it._ He can’t… love me. He _doesn’t_ love me. He barely even likes me.” Crowley parroted Aziraphale’s words bitterly.

 

“ _Tch_.” Deirdre scolded. “I’m quite sure he _likes_ you at the very least. He does tend to go on about his handsome friend in the sunglasses and the ‘tight trousers that hug him in all the right places’.”

 

For just a moment, Crowley forgot the situation. “He _said_ that?” He asked incredulously.

 

Jenny nodded enthusiastically, “Oh and we were all so pleased when he did. He seemed so much more uptight before that.”

 

“He _is_ uptight.” Crowley blinked, unsure of what to do with this new revelation.

 

The women chuckled. “Not after that.” Sacha told him.

 

“’Course he always had this adorable blush on his face any time he said something that might be seen as scandalous, and he always kept his air of righteousness.” Layla remarked. “Y’know, I once heard him muttering something about ‘the things I’d like to do to him’.”

 

Crowley blanched. “I’ve corrupted him. _Fuck,_ this is all my fault.”

 

“I’m sure it’s not, darling!” Deirdre told him, although Crowley could tell she had no handle on what was happening.

 

“He was such an… Angel.” Crowley shook, sobs finally wracking his body.

 

He fell to his knees.

 

And he prayed. He turned his eyes heavenward. “I know you don’t listen to me; I know you’ve never listened. But _please_. Just this once. Let him be free, let him be okay. Don’t fell him for this. He doesn’t deserve it. God, if I’ve even an ounce of grace left, I’ll give it all away for him.”

 

The women seemed to have enough sense to stay quiet at the sight of the man on their floor, shaking with grief, hands clasped and praying as if he’d had a history with God.

 

“I love him. Lord, I love him so much.” Crowley continued, almost indecipherable between gasps for air, admitting aloud things that a week ago he thought he’d never truly admit to himself. “And if you love him too, if you love him like you- like you’re _fucking supposed to love your creations._ ” He spat, “Then you’ll let him go. Please. I’m begging. I’m begging. I’m begging.” He repeated this again and again, until he let himself collapse into a mess on the floor.

 

Deirdre had enough sense to leave a message for Mr. Fell that his dark friend was at Holy Snip, and he wasn’t in any sort of state for them to let him be on his own at the moment.

 

 

Aziraphale didn’t get the message. He was being escorted up to heaven, up to a brightly lit courtroom. There wasn’t a warm color in the place.

 

“Aziaphale.” Gabriel said, now sitting comfortably in the judge’s seat.

 

“Yes, your honor?” Aziraphale quipped scornfully.

 

Gabriel gave him a look. “Don’t give me lip, Aziraphale. Now let’s see.” He shuffled some papers in front of him, “Your charges are fraternizing with a demon, going against the Great Plan, disobeying direct orders, Lust, Gluttony, Pride, and frankly copious amounts of lying. How do you plead?”

 

“Guilty.” Aziraphale stood tall, face impassive.

 

“Right. Then the judge will ask to the jury to find principality Aziraphale guilty on all counts and will recommend the punishment of Falling.” Gabriel scribbled this onto one of his papers, then proceeded to throw it up into the air where it rose and disappeared in a flash of blue light.”

 

Gabriel stared at Aziraphale for a full minute, and the principality _did not blink_. He held his head high and expression significantly haughtier than he usually preferred.

 

All at once, there was another light growing over where the jury would sit. A spotlight lit the only chair, and a woman’s voice graced the air.

 

“The jury hears the judge.” She said, “And at this, the jury finds the defendant guilty on the counts of ‘Lust, Gluttony, and Pride’”

 

Aziraphale could feel that guilt seeping into his soul, could feel his heart sinking as he truly realized what was about to happen. He kept his face expressionless the best he could.

She spoke again, “However, the jury finds the defendant not guilty on the charges of ‘fraternizing with a demon, going against the Great Plan, and a “copious amount of lying”’ on the grounds that they are not real charges.” Her last words seemed a little dry.

 

“Because of this, the jury will disregard the judge’s recommendation, and offers Her own recommendation. She recommends that the defendant be allowed back to Earth, as an angel in his own capacity. That he, the defendant, not be called back to heaven until eight millennia have passed from this moment unless he so wishes, as recompence for Heaven’s wrongdoing.”

 

And thus, She spake.

 

“On _what_ grounds?” Gabriel exclaimed before remembering himself and turning a deathly shade paler than he usually was.

 

“On the grounds,” She said, voice booming, “That Love is not a Sin.”

 

At this, the light above the chair vanished, and there was silence in the courtroom.

 

Aziraphale stood stunned, completely shell-shocked by what had just happened. Finding his voice, he spoke, as confidently as his heart would allow, “So that’s it then? I _will_ in fact take my leave. Unless, of course, you choose _not_ to take Her recommendation?”

 

Aziraphale, the bastard, knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

 

“Yeah. I’ll be taking the recommendation. Have fun on _Earth_ , Aziraphale.” Gabriel snarled, stood, and vanished along with the courtroom around Aziraphale, who found himself standing in his bookshop.

 

On Earth.

 

With a grin, and a new bounce to his step, he wandered the shop, not knowing exactly what he was to do.

 

His answering machine beeped at him.

 

“ _One new message_.” The machine told him. Aziraphale’s brows leapt into his hairline. He’d never gotten a message before.

 

After fumbling with the machine for a moment, the machine spoke again.

 

“ _Message received at 8:29 P.M.”_ It beeped, “ _Mr. Fell? Hello, this is Deirdre at Holy Snips, and erm… That dashing dark friend of yours is currently in our back room, in no state to be on his own right now. The girls and I are looking after him at the moment, but if you could come as soon as you get this, I think he’d appreciate it. Thanks.”_ The machine beeped again, but Aziraphale wasn’t in the shop to hear it.

 

Aziraphale was sprinting down the street as he checked his watch. _9:18,_ meaning Crowley had been at the salon for more than forty-five minutes.

 

“Pardon me!” He shouted, weaving between people, around couples, under signs.

 

The Holy Snips neon sign was alight like a beacon in the night.

 

Aziraphale stumbled into the building, thoroughly out of breath and more than a little panicked.

 

“Mr. Fell!” The woman Aziraphale recognized as Layla stood from the desk, “He’s back there.” She pointed to a door marked ‘Employees Only’.

 

He nodded his thanks and hurried to the door.

 

“Crowley!” He cried at the sight of the demon huddled in the corner of the room, face buried in shaking hands.

 

Crowley looked up.

 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale repeated, rushing over to kneel in front of him.

 

“A- angel? How- how’d you escape?”

 

“They let me go, it’s no matter,” Aziraphale shook his head, “What’s wrong, dear?”

 

“What-? You’re going to _Fall_ , Aziraphale!” Crowley took a ragged breath before processing what Aziraphale had said in the first part of what he’d said, “Wait, what’d’you mean they ‘let you go’?”

 

Aziraphale _shone_. “I was only found guilty of a few charges, and the jury let me go.” He shook his head again, “Let me say that again, Gabriel _wasn’t acting on God’s accord._ And the jury- that is, God Herself- said that She wouldn’t take the judge’s- Gabriel’s- recommendation to Fell me, and then She recommended that I be left alone on Earth for another eight millennia as recompence.”

 

Crowley stared, “She listened.” This time it was he that shook his head, clearing it somewhat, “But… why? She’s never been on to just let anyone off.”

 

“’On the grounds,’” Aziraphale crowed, “’That Love is not a Sin.”

 

Crowley’s jaw dropped, and when he spoke it was a rough whisper, “So you… you do-”

 

“Love you? Of course I do, Crowley! Whatever made you think I didn’t? I kissed you, didn’t I?”

 

Crowley shrugged distractedly, staring into the angel’s eyes.

 

And at that, Crowley dragged him down to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you had as much fun reading it!
> 
>  
> 
> IF you'd like a second chapter, I'd love to keep writing this, just comment a suggestion down in the comments!!


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